'Twas Christmas break at Hogwarts castle...
by EvilGrammarQueen
Summary: Harry's depressed, their fifth year, comfort from odd places. Naa! Go me! Chapter three finally up!
1. ...and in the Griffindor Common room...

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, if I did do you ACTUALLY THINK I'd have let Harry go to the Yule Ball with Lavender? Sorry, Lavender annoys me. So does Parvati, for that matter. ANYWAY this is turning out to be a somewhat long and ramble-y disclaimer. Right, back to the point, I don't own them, deal.

 A/N: This is a really strange story, but I guess the first part's okay since I wrote it in the presence of a two-year-old screaming to watch 'Land Before Time' for the tenth time in a row. Getting off task here, (I seem to do that a lot, oh well, I'm not complaining. After all, that's when I come up with half of my ideas. ~cough~English~cough). This is a strange story. It starts on the night before Christmas in their fifth year.

Drum roll, please, PRESENTING my first fic that has actually made a smidgen(ha, smidgen, funny word!) of sense…

'Twas Christmas Break at Hogwarts castle… 

            ~~~~~~~Chapter One: …in Gryffindor tower, all the creatures were stirring. But there were no mice… ~~~~~~~~~

"'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse-"

            "Well how do they know, I mean, was somebody actually going around and making sure that nothing at all was moving? But how could they do that without moving themselves?" Hermione quickly took the chance to continue reading while Ron contemplated this difficult philosophical question.

            "The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there-"

            "That's another thing! How exactly did they know that this 'Saint Nicholas' character would come, how did they even know he existed?" 

            Hermione sighed, ~~Why did I tell them I'd read to them Instead of getting my work done? Why?~~"The children were nestled snug in their beds, while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads-" 

            "Wouldn't that be painful? The fruit dancing in their heads, I mean?"

            "No, Ron, there weren't _actually _plums dancing in their heads. The children were just dreaming about the sweets they wanted." Hermione explained, if somewhat impatiently.

            "Ohhhh, well why didn't they just say so?"

            "Mama in her kerchief, and-okay, enough is enough! Know what, Ron? _I_ have work to do, and since _you_ aren't listening to _me_, _I'm _going to go do _my _work in _my _room!" And with that, Hermione stomped op to the girls' dormitories in a flurry of frizzy hair.

             For a moment the entire common room went silent, everyone in shock from Hermione Granger, one of the most level-headed people they knew, blowing up over a small thing like a Muggle story. Ron didn't seem to get it. "Well, _that_ was a strange ending, wasn't it Harry? Who knew there was someone named Ron in a Muggle Christmas story?" Harry blinked at him for a minute or two, shook his head, and went up to the boys' dorms. Ron shrugged and then went off to play a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny.

            Up in his room, Harry sighed as he flopped onto his bed. Reaching down, he pulled out a photo album of his parents. Harry started on the back page with a picture of his first and only Christmas with his parents. Pettigrew had taken the picture, Remus and Sirius were handing Lily and James presents for Baby Harry to open. Of course Baby Harry was completely oblivious to all the wonderful toys he'd just opened, and was playing with a piece of wrapping paper. 

            Harry blinked back stinging tears as he flipped through the pages. Pictures of his mum and dad smiled and waved up at him. His parents' baby shower, their wedding, graduation, these were all the familiar pictures he saw throughout the album. 

            However, a new picture had appeared on the first page. It was of his parents, Remus, Sirius, and Peter in their fifth year at Hogwarts. The picture showed Sirius and James running around and setting off lots of Filibusters' Fireworks, Lily and Remus chasing them around with watering cans and laughing hysterically. Peter was the only one that didn't appear to be having a good time, he was standing in the corner of the room and glaring up at Harry. Harry smiled sadly at the picture before putting the album back under his bed. He then turned off his light and went to sleep, completely unaware of the figure hovering on a broom just outside his window. "Good night, Harry, and merry Christmas." The figure whispered before disappearing into the night.

A/N: Okay people, what'd ya think? This was my first fic that I've actually gotten fairly far with. I don't mind if you flame.


	2. Twas Christmas day... and we had a flash...

A/N: Kay, here's the second part. I have improved with my places to write, though, be proud of me! Now I write in Science class (I'm not even going to say sorry to Mr. Cohen, he doesn't deserve it.), with small screaming children, or at 2 am. I lead an interesting life.

Disclaimer: I've already done this. I don't know why it's necessary. Oh well. I don't own anything except for a few cds. 

~~~~~~~~Chapter 2:

            The next morning, Harry woke with a start. Grabbing his alarm clock, his fears were confirmed. It was 8:00. He'd overslept and missed breakfast. Double Potions with the Slytherins was about to start. _Why the _hell_ didn't anyone wake me up? _Harry thought frantically as he scrambled out of bed, _and who put this pile of presents at my bed?!? _He sat down hard on the floor, shaking his head at his own idiocy. _It's Christmas, I don't _have _potions today; and no one woke me up because- _Harry glanced over at the other fifth year boys' beds- _they're still asleep. Oh well, I'm awake now, might as well get up. _He got dressed and stumbled down to the common room. Only a few Gryffindors had stayed for Christmas break that year, and since they were all still asleep, Harry was the only one the eerily quiet room. _I should get some work done, just until someone else gets up. Ugh, I sound like Hermione. _Trying not to dwell on this thought any longer than was necessary, Harry pulled out, horror of horrors, his Divination homework. He soon found himself running out of dreadful things to happen in the next month, so, for probably the first time since, well, ever, Harry actually did the work. About a half an hour later, he went over what he'd written, pausing at one entry in particular. **You will meet a stranger you've always known. **This peculiar oxymoron sounded strangely like a prediction Professor Trelawney had done for him a few days back.

A/N: oooh, flashback time. okay, just so you know, *--* signals the beginning of a flashback, and another one signals the end of it. that's all, you may continue.

*--* It was the day before Christmas break, and Prof. Trelawney had decided to give them a little "treat" by meeting with each of them privately, and telling their fortunes. They had all waited in a line in front of the ladder leading up to the veiled classroom. Lavender and Parvati in front, Ron and Harry in back. Most had gone in looking fairly excited, and come out looking extremely disappointed, Ron was just pissed. "She said I'd fail all of my subjects, _and _get detention every day until Easter! What a fraud! She wouldn't know a prediction if it danced naked in front of her, singing, "Look at me, I'm a prediction, I'm a prediction!" _Then _she was going on about how someone close to me was going to die soon. 'Not a brother, this person is very close to you, but you've only known them for, oh, I don't know, the last five years?' I swear she has a book called _101 Ways to Kill Off Harry Potter_! Never goes anywhere without it!" By the time that he was done with this little rant, Ron was turning a rather pretty shade of purple. "Oh yeah," he panted, "She says it's your turn next. What she _means _is it's your turn if you somehow manage to survive the treacherous climb up the five-foot ladder!" Apparently telling Harry that one of his teachers hoped he would die was _not _the way to cheer him up. _Damn, _thought Ron dejectedly, _Hermione was right._ Ever since the end of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had been horribly quiet and depressed. And ever since school had begun again, Ron and Hermione had been trying to cheer him up. So far all they had succeeded in doing was annoying the hell out of each other. By the time Ron had stopped thinking about his and Hermione's different approaches to everything under the sun, Harry had already climbed the ladder. "Probably should have told him about the stronger fragrance spells," Ron muttered before sitting down for a long wait.

            Harry's first thoughts as he entered the Divination room were strange and confusing (Ack! Attack of the incense! I've been hit! Repeat, one man down, send help! Dumbledore, we have a problem.). However they were soon interrupted by the mistiness that was Prof. Trelawney, "Hello, my poor, dear, cursed child. Have you come to me to see your dismal future?"

            "Um… yeah… sure… why not?"

            Prof. Trelawney pursed her lips, clearly annoyed that the "poor, dear, cursed child" wasn't more enthusiastic to hear about his horrible fate. "Yes, well, just sit there and give me your hand." Harry willingly (or not so much) obeyed.

            For what seemed like an eternity, the vaporous, yet strangely deranged professor regarded Harry's hand like a hawk would watch it's prey. "Hmm… I see… oh, indeed? Interesting… Well I've never seen one of _those _before!" She sighed, and when she spoke again the mistiness in her voice had disappeared. "You have a long path ahead of you, Mr. Potter."

            "Oh," said Harry, clearly perplexed A/N: teehee. perplexed. yet another funny word. so's door. teehee. door. pillow too. DIBBLZED! sorry, don't ask., "Is that a good thing?"

"I have _never_ seen a palm like yours in my entire life, it shows me that you will soon go on a journey, and yet that you will stay in the same  place. _Very_ confusing and mysterious, don't you think?"

            "I guess," the Boy who Lived muttered, completely unimpressed. He stood up, lost in thought, and slowly climbed down the ladder to meet Ron.*--*


	3. Chess and other pastimes...

A/N: Oops, heh heh, I ended the second chapter too early…oh well. ::blinks:: Wow, more than four pages. I did not mean to type that much…No, wait, I meant to type more. Oh well.  
  
Harry was pulled from his reverie by a shrill voice, "Harry!" Ginny squealed, throwing her arms around his neck, "Happy Christmas!"  
  
"Gin, you know I love you, but I can't breathe." He rasped.  
  
Ginny blushed and let go, "Oh, right. Sorry. Did you open your presents yet?"  
  
"No, I thought I'd get some work done before you guys woke up."  
  
"But why? I mean, the three of you have always woken the others up on Christmas!" She asked, clearly perplexed.  
  
"Well golly-gee, Ginny, maybe I just wanted to be myself for once. Did you ever think I might just want a few minutes when I'm not Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, defeater of the evil, vile Lord Voldemort? Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to be the Boy-Who- Fucking-Lived??!??!?!"  
  
Ginny blinked at him, chocolate brown eyes slowly filling with tears at her crush's sudden outburst. "I-I'm sorry, Harry, I-I was just wondering." A few tears fell down her cheeks, but Virginia Weasley is not one to be dissuaded, and a brilliant smile soon formed on her face. "How about we go get our presents from upstairs and open them together?"  
  
Harry forced a smile, "Yeah, sure, Gin. You go on up, I'll get mine in just a sec." Ginny rewarded him with a quick but heartfelt smile before running upstairs to get her gifts.  
  
Ron hummed something that sounded suspiciously like the Wedding March as he stepped from the shadows. "She's really got it bad for you, Harry. May even be in love. But no matter, you two would make a great couple. Plus, you're my best friend. I suppose what I'm trying to say is, well, if you ever wanted to go out with Gin, I'd be all right with it. But I swear, best mate or no, if you hurt my little sister, I will personally hunt you down and grind your body to a bloody pulp."  
  
Harry wrinkled up his nose, "Ron? Besides the death threats, did you just give me your blessing?"  
  
Ron thought back for a second, "You know, I think I did." The boys looked at each other with wide eyes before shrugging and saying "Weird," in unison. "Should we go get our presents?"  
  
"Yeah, sure," Harry replied apathetically.  
  
The two walked into their dorm to find Neville hitting Seamus with a Hogwarts pillow ::A/N: I'm sorry, Liz, Merry, I just couldn't help it!:: and sobbing. Harry and Ron rushed over. Harry held Neville back as Ron checked to see whether or not Seamus was all right. "That kid is bloody deranged!" The Irish wizard shouted, pointing a shaking finger at Neville.  
  
"Seamus, tell me the truth now, what did you do?" Harry calmly inquired.  
  
"I didn't do anything!"  
  
Ron turned to Dean, who was cowering in the corner, "Dean, what happened?"  
  
"Seamus insulted Neville's parents, and Neville went berserk! Screaming and carrying on about how his parents were the best Aurors ever, and not to talk about what he didn't know. Then, Seamus said that if Neville's parents had told him they were Aurors, they must be crazy. Neville started hitting Seamus and crying! It was downright creepy!"  
  
Harry glared at Seamus, "Did you?"  
  
"Maybe," The boy said, suddenly finding an ink stain on the rug very interesting.  
  
"Seamus, apologize."  
  
"But Harry—"  
  
"Now."  
  
"I'm sorry, Neville." There had apparently never been a more intriguing ink stain in the history of mankind.  
  
"'Salright," Neville sniffled, "Just don't do it again."  
  
Seamus shook his head so hard the others were all sure it'd fall of his shoulders at any moment. "No, never again!"  
  
"How about you guys go downstairs with your presents," Harry suggested, "I want to talk to Neville."  
  
"Yeah, come on Dean, Seamus. Gin's waiting for us."  
  
Dean had finally noticed that ink spot, but his head suddenly popped up, "There's alcohol? Why didn't you say so?"  
  
Harry looked at him strangely, "Just get your gifts and go." The other three boys quickly gathered everything up and trudged downstairs.  
  
"What'd you want to talk to me about, Harry?" Neville asked, slowly inching towards the door.  
  
"You alright, Nev?"  
  
Neville blinked, "Um, yeah. Now, I mean, but yeah. Thanks, by the way."  
  
"No problem," Harry smiled distractedly. "Let's go downstairs, alright?"  
  
~*~  
  
That evening, after all the gifts had been opened, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all sat near the fireplace. Ron and Hermione were arguing, as usual, and Harry was just staring into the fire. "I don't see what's so important about it?"  
  
"You must be joking! The sheer brilliance of these people is astounding! They've managed to record thousands of years of history in less than two days!"  
  
"You know what I find astounding, 'Mione? A perfected Wronski Feint."  
  
"God, it's all about Quidditch, for you boys! You know, there's a lot more to life than that, you know."  
  
"Yes, there's also chess."  
  
"You are so exasperating!"  
  
"That's why you love me."  
  
"But don't you see why what these historians have done is amazing?"  
  
"Back to that again? I swear, you've got a one-track—if you keep staring into that bloody fire, I'll put it out, Harry."  
  
The Boy-Who-Lived looked up, confused, "What?"  
  
Ron and Hermione exchanged a "look."  
  
"Come on, Harry," Hermione sighed.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"The girl's room."  
  
Harry blinked, "Oh, well that makes it al better, then."  
  
"Come on!" Ron said, dragging Harry out of his chair.  
  
"Hey, Ron, where're you going?" Fred asked, noticing his brother attempting to drag Harry Potter out of a very comfortable armchair.  
  
"Girl's room."  
  
"Wicked!" George smiled.  
  
"Not like that, we just want to show Harry something."  
  
Fred raised his eyebrows, "You and 'Mione with Harry watching? Oooh, kinky. I like it!"  
  
"No! Eww! Gross, gross, gross! Bad mental place! Get your minds out of the gutter!" Ron cried, trying very hard not to gag.  
  
"I never knew the thought of us together was so revolting to you, Ron." Hermione said tearfully.  
  
"No! Nothing like that! Honestly!"  
  
"So you're lusting after me?" She squeaked, "Forget it, Ron. Come on, Harry." Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him towards the portrait hole.  
  
"You're twisting my words!" Ron called after her.  
  
An indignant "Hmphh!" and a slam of the portrait were the only indications that she'd heard him.  
  
"See what you've done? Now she's not going to talk to me for a week!" Ron huffed, turning to his brothers.  
  
"Poor ickle Ronniekins! Do you want us to kiss her and make it all better?" The twin's younger brother glared at them for a moment before stalking off through the portrait. "Wonder what they're gonna do." Fred said conversationally. The two glanced at each other. "We couldn't."  
  
"Well, technically, we could."  
  
"Wouldn't be very nice to our little brother."  
  
"True, true. And he is very upset with us already."  
  
"Yeah." The twins sat in silence for a moment. "Race you to the portrait hole."  
  
~*~  
  
"How could he talk about me like that?" Hermione demanded, pacing around Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "He treats me like I'm an inanimate object! It's not fair! What do you think, Harry? You agree with me, right?"  
  
"Yeah, sure Hermione."  
  
"Have you been listening to a word I've said so far?"  
  
"Uh-huh," Harry sighed.  
  
"Prove it."  
  
You think that Ron's been treating you like an inanimate object for lusting after you."  
  
Hermione pouted at being proved wrong, "So you were listening."  
  
"Yes, it's something that I tend to find helpful from time to time." Harry drawled sarcastically. "God, what is your problem?!?!?! You and Ron have been acting weird since last week!"  
  
Just at that moment Ron burst though the door, dripping wet. "We've been acting weird?!?! You're the one who's blown off six classes in the past month!"  
  
Harry looked at him strangely, "And yet I don't look like a drowned rat…"  
  
Moaning Myrtle floated out of her stall, "I do not look like a drowned rat! Just because I'm d-d-dead doesn't mean you can make fun of me! Believe me, I know how it is: poor Myrtle, she's dead! Oh well. Hey look, her hair's stringy, let's call her a rat!"  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows, "Right…but see, that didn't make any sense…"  
  
"Well, I am sorry that I didn't finish my education, Missy, but see, this little annoying thing happened, I DIED!!!!" Myrtle shrieked, tears streaming down her face. "Just leave me alone you, you BEASTLY GIRL!" She sobbed, floating back into her stall.  
  
Ron blinked, "Right then, anyway. Down to business. Harry, we don't know what's brought it on, but you've been much too apathetic lately."  
  
"I have not." Harry snapped.  
  
"You have too, and I think you're losing too much weight!"  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are too!"  
  
~*~  
  
"Am not!" Crabbe argued, shoving Goyle down.  
  
"Are—"  
  
"Shut up, you two!" Draco yelled, suddenly impatient with their bickering. "Goyle, leave Crabbe alone. And Crabbe, you are thinner than Goyle, accept it and move on."  
  
Goyle pouted, "Why are you so mean to us, Malfoy? We were only joking..."  
  
"And it's time you realized that you can't always joke! You two need to learn to be serious and think about something other than food for a change!"  
  
Crabbe tried to think about this—it was a very painful thing to watch—"But what else can we think about? Food is go—"  
  
"Shut up!" Draco hissed, pressing his ear to a bathroom door, "I think I hear something!" A smirk slowly formed on his face, "My, my, Weasel and the Mudblood chewing Potter out…and when they should be safely tucked in their dorms too! Ohh, but this will be good…You two stay here, I'm going to surprise them, see if I can't shock them into telling me something useful." He threw open the door, surprising the five inside so much that they each reached for their wands.  
  
~*~  
  
Fred and George were crouched inside one of the stalls—they'd found a secret passageway there back in their second year, after all, what better way to spend a boring detention 'cleaning' the trophies than to explore?—listening to their little brother's argument with his best friend. Apparently, Ron and Hermione had noticed Harry getting more and more listless after the Triwizard Tournament the previous year. "They're very loud," Fred whispered, "Wonder why McGonagall's not down here suspending them."  
  
"Yeah, or if not McGonagall, then at least Filch or Mrs. Norris."  
  
It had gotten to the point where Harry was sitting on the bathroom floor, looking overwhelmed, and Ron and Hermione standing over him yelling about how "life was for living, and you can't live if you're just a shell wandering around!" when Draco Malfoy flung open the door crying, "I'll tell!"  
  
Fred, George, and Ron all found their wand, Harry found a quill, and Hermione found the Time Turner, which Ron and Harry gaped at. "What are you doing with that thing again, 'Mione? Don't you remember how bad it was in third year?"  
  
"Yes, I do. But I figured I could handle it now, if I took different classes and such. Oh, and don't call me 'Mione, Ron, it's very annoying."  
  
Draco just blinked at it, "Wait, is that…a Time Turner?!?!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded, "How'd you get one of those, Granger? Why did they give it to a Mudblood like you, and not a pureblood like me?"  
  
Ron snarled and lunged at Draco's throat, "How dare you call her that?"  
  
Fred and George jumped out from the stall, brandishing their wands, "Don't call Hermione that, you—you—Death Eater!" Draco tried to lunge at them, but seeing as how he was thoroughly pinned to the ground by a very angry teenage boy, it didn't exactly work. So, Fred and George lunged at him.  
  
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, sighed, and began trying to pull the three Weasleys off of Draco Malfoy, who pulled at the Time Turner in her hand. The six teenagers vanished in front of a very confused Crabbe and Goyle who'd heard all the noise and had come to investigate. They looked at each other, "Do you think he's gone?" Goyle questioned.  
  
"Probably. They're not here, anyway." The two stared at the place where Draco had just been, "Do you want to get something to eat?"  
  
"Yeah, sure." And so Crabbe and Goyle lumbered down the hallway towards the kitchens, all thoughts of Draco Malfoy gone from their rather thick heads.  
  
A/N: Neesh, why does this idiotic computer hate me? It thinks that most of my sentences are fragments! It's wrong! Dah, die, evil thing. And yes, I do realize how strange this is. I wrote it at three am, and typed it up at 11 pm three weeks later when I was utterly…blah. Review, please. 


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